Return of the Duke

by Monroe, Jennifer

  Her heart felt for the man. To have lost both of his parents at such a young age had to be devastating, to say the least, but to have no money on top of such heartache? She could not even imagine.

  “You have done well for yourself, Your Grace,” Marianne said, better words escaping her.

  “I’d rather you call me William,” he said with a shy smile. “I know I have a title now, but I miss my old name.”

  Marianne gaped at the man. Was he mad? “You must understand, you do not know what you ask of me.”

  “If I command you to as a Duke, do you have to do it?” he asked as if he were a small child making a simple request. His crooked smile was as endearing as his question.

  “Well,” she said with consideration, “I suppose that any request made of a Duke must be fulfilled. Therefore, if you are commanding me to use your given name rather than address you according to your title, I must do so. Although, you should keep in mind that my doing so when others are within earshot might lead to all sorts of gossip about our relationship. We do not want others getting the wrong impression about us, do we?”

  He laughed. “No, I guess we don’t want that at all. Then how about this? You must call me William whenever we’re alone, and if you want to call me Your Grace or His Grace or whatever Grace when we’re around other people, then you do that.”

  “Very well, William,” Marianne said with a smile, “then that is what I will do.”

  The man seemed to relax visibly and it occurred to Marianne for the first time how difficult this situation must be for him. It was not every day that someone from the lower class was thrust into society as the Duke—no, she had to think of him as William for the time being—William had been.

  “Thank you, Marianne,” he said. “Oh, you don’t mind if I call you Marianne, do you? I promise to only call you that when we’re alone; I don’t want to embarrass you more than I’m likely to do.”

  “Yes, you may call me Marianne when we are alone if I am to call you William. I suppose it would be strange otherwise.”

  His smile seemed easier this time than it had been since their first encounter, and Marianne found herself also relaxing. He turned to look back up at the portraits again. “I want to be a Duke, a good one, but I don’t want to let all these fancy titles and all that money to corrupt me like it does some people.” He motioned to the paintings, but Marianne did not understand his meaning behind the words. Perhaps another time he would explain more, but she did not feel right in asking. “Will you be able to make me a great Duke?”

  Marianne smiled. Though her mind told her such a feat would be just short of impossible, she felt the need to reassure him. “You will make a fine Duke, I have no doubt.”

  The way his smile widened warmed her heart. Even if she was stretching the truth a bit, she was glad to make him so happy. He might not become the best of Dukes, but perhaps with her and her mother’s help he would be an acceptable one.

  “I will be going to my room now,” she said, although she wished she could stay and ask him questions about his past. She found him much more intriguing than she first thought, but to be so forward with such questions was not what a woman of her standing should do. It was one thing to be commanded to use his Christian name at certain times and quite another to pry into a man’s personal life. “Good night, Your…William.”

  “Good night, Marianne.” Without waiting for her to leave, he returned his attention to the paintings.

  When she got to the door, she stopped and glanced back at the man. Perhaps two months would be enough time to ready him for society, for he had a good-heartedness about him that could not be missed. That might make his transition that much easier, or so she hoped.

  Chapter Six

  The following morning, William sat staring out the window of the sitting room thinking about the conversation he had the previous evening with Miss Blithe. No, he could refer to her as Marianne in his mind; it was not as if anyone could listen in on his thoughts. He found it laughable when the woman had finally conceded to his wish to call him by his given name when it came as naturally to him as putting on his underclothes every morning.

  In all honesty, it all was more than a bit humorous. Just over a week before, he was William the gardener, someone no one would cast a second glance at. Now, he was William Hawkins, Fifth Duke of Stromhedge, and everyone needing to do as he asked. No, it was more than that; they wanted to do as he asked.

  It was an odd feeling knowing that Marianne and her mother were at Silver Birch Estates to teach him how to be a gentleman, and although he looked forward to the weeks ahead, he could not help but be a little frightened, as well. There were so many things to learn, a list Marianne was reciting to him now as she sat on a chair across from him, her mother sitting beside the window with an embroidery hoop in her hand. He wondered why the mother was not instructing, but it was not for him to question, so he did not.

  “At the end of the first month, we shall do a practice day as a way to test all of your new skills,” she was saying.

  William gave her an absentminded nod and then studied the woman as she continued to speak. Beautiful was not a strong enough word to describe her, and although he never paid much attention to women’s dresses, the yellow dress she wore at the moment caught his eye. Maybe it was the material or the way she wore it, but deep inside, he half-suspected it was more the woman who wore it than the dress itself that had his admiration.

  He could not help but think of Miss Garvey and the numerous times she had passed him without so much as a glance his way, her nose in the air as if it was leading her down the path. Although he sensed the same social abilities in Marianne, he found her to be a kind woman, unlike the stuffy daughter of Lord and Lady Garvey, and he suspected that had he been either servant or Duke, she would have treated him the same either way. Or maybe nearly the same, anyway. Regardless, he did not think she would have turned her nose up to him the way Miss Garvey so often did.

  “So, with that, we will begin your first lesson. Are you ready?”

  William felt his face burn. He had been staring at Marianne for so long, he did not notice her looking at him with expectation.

  “Yes,” he said as he stood from his chair. “I am ready.” He wished he had paid better attention because he had been so immersed in his own thoughts he had no idea what they would be doing. Well, he was a smart man; he would figure it out soon enough.

  Marianne smiled and then walked over to stand beside the door. “I would like you to go to the hallway, reenter the room, and walk toward me so I can see your posture and check how well you walk.”

  That was easy enough. William did as she asked, wondering what she was expecting. he had been walking since he was a young child, but, even so, he wished he had been paying attention when she was talking earlier. He entered the room, studying her face as he did so, but he could read nothing as he walked past her, her expression carefully guarded.

  “Fine,” she said when he came to a stop at the far end of the room. She came to stand beside him, took hold of his arms, and pulled his elbows back so they hung at his sides rather than slightly in front of him. “Your posture is good, which can be the most difficult to correct, and thus could make my job more difficult than it could be. I would recommend you pull back your shoulders a bit.”

  He did as she asked, feeling very much as he thought Miss Garvey might feel when she looked down at him in passing.

  Marianne took a few steps back and looked him over. “Perfect. You are a fast learner. Now, please try entering the room once again.”

  He found himself wishing to please her, and he quickly did as she asked. He studied her face once again as he walked past her. How he wished she would give him some sort of clue as to how he was doing so he did not have to wait!

  “Most excellent,” she said. “As a Duke, you must command respect no matter if you are entering a ballroom or your own offices. If you do so, you will get the respect of those around you. I would like you
to continue practicing throughout the coming weeks, and soon it will become as natural to you as anything else you do on a regular basis.”

  “Thank you, Miss Blithe,” he said with a wide grin. “What can I learn to do next?”

  The woman smiled and pointed to a chair. “Please take a seat.”

  He walked over to the chair and looked at it with suspicion. Why did he need to learn how to sit? Was it not something he already knew how to do? It would be easier than walking. He gave her a quizzical look, and she returned it with a reassuring nod, as if she believed he was nervous about completing such a simple task. He shrugged and then plopped himself down on the chair and stared at her, his feet up on their toes and his elbows on his knees.

  “I learned how to sit when I was little,” he assured her, certain she would be as pleased with his sitting as she had been with his walking.

  However, she frowned. “First of all, Your Grace, you do not simply drop into a chair. One glides across the floor and lowers himself into the chair. Let me show you.” Her movements were indeed graceful, and he wondered why a man would be expected to move in such a flowing manner.

  “On most occasions, you will be wearing a tailcoat. You will flip the tails back so they are out of the way before you sit, or you risk wrinkling them. Then you lower yourself into the chair, not too quickly, but not too slowly either. Keep your back as straight when you sit as you do when you walk. Posture is everything when you are dealing with men and women of the aristocracy. A man with good posture tells everyone that he is in control, that he knows what he is about, and that he has all the answers, even if he truly does not.”

  He nodded. “I think I can do that.”

  “I know you can,” she corrected him. “Now, you will take your right foot and place it over your left knee like so.” He studied her movements and remembered his father sitting in such a way when he was a child. “Finally, you place your hands either in your lap or your arm along the arm of the chair, but never on the back.”

  He felt his face flush as he remembered how he had sat during dinner the night before. Every bit of how he sat was wrong, and he worried that it would be too difficult to remember. At the orphanage, children sat on benches at long tables and learned to hide their food from the other children while they ate or else risk losing a precious roll to a greedy neighbor.

  “Now, I want you to practice entering the room and taking a seat, please.”

  He once again went to the hallway and then reentered the room, only to have Marianne correct his shoulders once again. Each time he made a mistake, she immediately corrected him and made him start again from the beginning. Although she was kind and patient with him, he found the repetition of entering the room and taking his seat frustrating. He had practiced it at least a dozen times, if not two, when her face finally broke out into an approving smile as he placed an elbow on the arm of the chair.

  “Well, done, Your Grace,” she said with a light applause, accompanied by that of her mother from the window. “I believe we have done enough for this morning. We will resume our lessons in one hour.”

  He looked up at the clock and was surprised to see it was now time for the midday meal. He went to speak, but a single knock on the door had him turning to find Mr. Ludlow standing in the hallway.

  “Your Grace,” the man said with a bow, “I have arranged for a tailor to come tomorrow to take your measurements so you might have new clothes made.”

  New clothes, changing how he walked and sat, it was all so overwhelming. And this was just his first day! However, William thanked the man and then looked over at Marianne and found that her smile of approval was still in place, and he felt encouraged to keep going.

  ***

  After a light midday meal, William found himself outside in the gardens as Mrs. Blithe spoke of the remaining plans for the foreseeable future, though he found his attention turning to the plants around him. What he wanted to do at that moment was tend the flowerbed or help Jake, who was currently pruning a nearby tree.

  “I believe,” Mrs. Blithe was saying as they walked down the path, “the afternoons should be spent rehearsing your new background and continuing the studies of your education.”

  William snapped around to look at her. “My new background? I don’t understand.”

  “Mother, if I may?” Marianne said. Her mother gave her a considering look and then nodded. “William, as a Duke, it is imperative that we design a story concerning your upbringing. That story must not raise too many questions, and you must be consistent with what you tell people about your past. People of the aristocracy can be…fickle when it comes to a person’s background.”

  William placed his hands in the pocket of his trousers and grimaced. “What are you saying?” he asked, trying to keep the anger and humiliation he felt under control. “That working as a gardener is not noble enough for the good people of the Nobility? I’m not ashamed of who I am.”

  “Of course you are not ashamed, nor should you be,” Mrs. Blithe replied. “There is a great pride in doing such work. However, you must understand that, in your role, people will want to aspire to be like you, and they will look up to you, and being a gardener does not equal being a Duke.”

  Marianne added, “You will have children one day, will you not?”

  Although he had never given it much thought, he nodded. “Yes, I will eventually,” he replied.

  “Would you want our children laboring in the gardens by day or studying at the finest schools and receiving the best education available to them?”

  “I understand,” he said, though it still bothered him. He guessed that, in reality, they were right, but it still did not sit well with him.

  A grunt from a nearby tree him made him turn his head. “Forgive me,” he said to Marianne and her mother before walking over to where Jake struggled with a branch.

  “Your Grace!” the man said when he noticed William standing beside him. His bow was as awkward as any William had given.

  “Is that branch stuck?” William asked as he pointed at it with his chin.

  “It is, and I can’t seem to get it out.” Then he quickly added, “But I will.” The man was sweating profusely, and William suspected it had more to do with the fact that his employer stood watching him than as a result of the heat of the day.

  William clapped the man on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this many times before.” He studied the tree for several moments. Then he jumped up, grabbed onto a branch, and began to climb.

  The two women behind him gasped.

  “Your Grace,” Mrs. Blithe called out.

  William waved at the woman from above, and she gaped up at him as she held her hat in the slight breeze that had picked up.

  “It is dangerous to risk your life in such a manner,” she said. “I beg of you, please come down at once!”

  He grinned down at her and then shot Marianne a wink. For a brief moment, he made a pretense of wobbling on the branch. “Oh, no! I’m gonna fall!” He laughed at their screams. “I’m fine, I promise,” he said and then turned to the gardener. “All right, Jake. Pull!”

  Jake did as he instructed. William guided the branch down, freeing it when the smaller branches caught and did not allow it to move further. Soon, they removed the large limb and William climbed back down to the ground.

  Both women stood staring at him in shock, their eyes wide and their jaws hanging open.

  “I might be a Duke,” he said with a laugh, “but I’m also an expert tree-climber.”

  Mrs. Blithe gave him a weak grin, but Marianne stood looking away, apparently too upset by his actions to look at him. This made him feel bad, for he had only meant to impress the woman with his skills. However, what he had done was upset her instead.

  “Your Grace,” Mrs. Blithe said in a cautious tone, “might I make a request?”

  “Yes?”

  “It frightens me to see you doing such things. Please, do not do that again?”

  His regr
et deepened and he gave a heavy sigh. “Yes, Mrs. Blithe, you won’t catch me in a tree. My climbing days are over.” However, the loss of yet another activity he loved brought down a deep sadness. Would he ever do anything expected of a Duke?

  ***

  William stood admiring the painting of his father, a man he missed dearly. He recalled the day he had heard of the accident in the mine that took the man’s life as well as that of five other men. The funeral had been a simple matter, and the only marker to indicate his final resting place was a small wooden cross William had bound together himself with a piece of rope.

  He had been sent to the local orphanage, but it was a horrid place, and it did not take him long before he ran away. Wandering for many days, he met others like himself, and together they found work in fields, struggling to make it from day to day.

  However, now he was a Duke, his fortunes were great, or so he presumed from what little Mr. Ludlow had told him thus far. The old adviser had not been all too forthcoming about his current worth, but today was the day he would find out. He shook his head. If only Thomas could see him now. He had promised the gnarled gardener that he’d write to him and he would do so this very evening, for although the people around him did not treat him unkindly, they were not his friends, and right now he needed a friend desperately.

  “Your Grace?”

  William turned to see Mr. Ludlow enter the room. “Oh, hello, Mr. Ludlow. How’re you doing today?” Unlike Marianne, Mr. Ludlow refused to address William by anything other than his title, which only placed a feeling of distance between him and his adviser.

  “I am well, Your Grace,” the man replied. “And how did your first day of instruction go? Did you learn much?”

  Mr. Ludlow’s words reminded William of his father asking after him when he returned home from school, a place at which he had spent little time once his father was gone. How lucky he had been to have worked for Mr. Sampton, for the man had been kind by providing the young boys in his employ with a teacher to work with them after they completed their work. That coupled with the instruction he had received from Miss Garvey’s tutor had been a godsend to him. What William thought was normal he later found was an anomaly, for very few employers did such things.